


This Consuming Love

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: BixFreed [24]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Blood, Choices, Emotional Hurt, Friendship/Love, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Loss, M/M, Promises, Team as Family, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Freed couldn’t breathe.It was a sensation that he had become painfully used to over the last few months. The tightness in his chest, a pressure around his lungs, the prickling sensation that came with each ragged breath as though someone was stabbing him with dozens of tiny pins every time he inhaled. Or, dozens of thorns. The slow, inevitable blossoming of the flowers that now held his heart and lungs to ransom.All because of a feeling he hadn't looked for, or planned on.
Relationships: Bickslow/Freed Justine
Series: BixFreed [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1188712
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	This Consuming Love

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that if you want to talk to me about my fics and writing, or anime/shows/games in general then you can now find me on discord [The Unholy Trinity](https://discord.gg/6sSddAWa5c).

Freed couldn’t breathe.

It was a sensation that he had become painfully used to over the last few months. The tightness in his chest, a pressure around his lungs, the prickling sensation that came with each ragged breath as though someone was stabbing him with dozens of tiny pins every time he inhaled. Or, dozens of thorns, he corrected bitterly, carefully scanning the people around him to make sure that no one was watching before surreptitiously pressing a hand to his chest. The pressure helped a little, postponing the cough that he knew would follow, but it was a delaying tactic only. He knew from experience now that the prickling sensation would rise, spreading up through his chest and up the back of his neck until he couldn’t do anything but cough, and cough and cough. His sore throat, abused over the long months, would tickle and ache, and then would come the silky, ticklish press of petals against his throat, and mouth.

The slow, inevitable blossoming of the flowers that now held his heart and lungs to ransom.

A curse. A punishment. No, it wasn’t either of those, not really. For all that it hurt, stealing his breath and strength with each day that passed, Freed couldn’t bring himself to call it by such names. It wasn’t fair. It hurt, and not just in the slow physical sense, but because of what the flowers in his chest represented.

A love that consumed but gave nothing in return.

Not that he had ever expected anything in return, but this pain. This slow, creeping death seemed like a particularly unfair return for an emotion that was meant to give you everything. _I wish I had never fallen in love,_ he thought as he massaged his chest, but even that was a lie. Or a half-truth. He wished that he had never let himself fall this far, to cling to a feeling, a hope, that deep down he had always known would never come to fruition, and yet at the same time, he couldn’t regret it. In the beginning, when he had realised that friendship was blooming into something more at least for him, he had been excited and hopefully, and even at the height of his nerves and uncertainty it had been a beautiful feeling. He could still remember that feeling, clinging to it late at night when he couldn’t sleep, a hand pressed over his traitorous heart as he fought to keep the coughing at bay so that the others wouldn’t hear and worry. He treasured it. Clung to it, as everything else was swept away by the growing realisation that those feelings were going to kill him unless he did something, and soon.

And that was the problem because for the first time in his life he didn’t know what to do and it terrified him. He’d always known his own path, even when it had been the wrong like with the Battle of Fairy Tail, he had made his choice and dealt with the fallout. Now, though he found himself turning in circles. His thoughts like quicksilver and so muddled that he wasn’t sure what he was thinking or feeling anymore, and every time he felt as though he was coming close to a decision it would crumble through his fingers, and leave him as uncertain as ever. _Some Captain I am,_ he thought bitterly, pressing harder on his chest as he tilted his head to look at the booth where the rest of the Raijinshuu were sat with Laxus, laughing and chatting, the table piled high with glasses, a sign of how long they’d been in the guild that afternoon and how much had changed.

_I can’t destroy that._

It sounded dramatic when he put it like that, as though his feelings had the power to make them all crumble. Yet, here he was, slowly dying because of those same feelings. _I can’t…_ A bark of laughter had him flinching, a cough building in the back of his throat, as his heart seemed to jack-knife in response to the sound, and he had to look away.

_If I told him…_

… _It wouldn’t change anything, but it could destroy everything…_

And he couldn’t let that happen.

*

_Freed had done his research._

_After the first weeks of breathlessness and feeling unwell he’d sought out Wendy and later Porlyusica, and neither of them had been able to find a reason for it. It was nearly a month later, while out on a job with Evergreen and Bickslow that he’d coughed up the first petals. At first, he’d thought that it was a spell, a curse, even though he was sure that he would have noticed being hit with something like that. Yet, something had stopped him from speaking out even then. At the time he’d told himself that he hadn’t wanted to worry his teammates, after all, they were all just finding their feet again and settling into a new rhythm. Perhaps, even then he’d had an inkling of what it was. Either way, it hadn’t taken him long to rule out a magical attack, but the petals kept coming. One or two a fortnight at first, and although it was unpleasant, it wasn’t painful at that point, and for a time he had tried to ignore it, hoping foolishly that it would just fade away with time._

_It hadn’t. Instead, one or two petals a fortnight had become several petals a week, and then the pain had started. The prickling feeling in his chest beginning to herald their arrival, and he had turned to the guild library to research, telling the others that he was working on new defensive runes when they asked what he was doing. It hurt to lie them, and yet the words had come easily, falling from his lips before he’d even thought of an excuse. He was grateful for it, when as he searched amongst the stacks of books and papers for an answer, the petals came more frequently, until every day he was coughing delicate, pink blossoms into the pages that he was scanning so desperately._

_The day that he found his answers was also the first day that he had spied blood on the petals and the terror he had been keeping locked away had nearly overwhelmed him. He’d even fled the library, going in search of Evergreen and him… realising that he couldn’t deal with this alone anymore, but then he had seen them at the bar, laughing and chatting with Laxus and Makarov and he’d frozen in the doorway. They’d looked so happy, content in a way that none of them could’ve imagined not even that long ago, and the thought of breaking that moment, and seeing the smiles give way to concern was too much. Before he could retreat though, Bickslow had spotted him, grinning broadly and calling for him to join them and Freed had taken half a step forward, ready to lie if needed, when the prickling sensation had appeared. It was stronger than he’d ever felt before, and the coughing fit that followed had been unstoppable, and he’d fled, a hand pressed to his mouth and their voices ringing in his ears as he’d bolted for the safety of the library._

_Inside, he’d bolted the door and thrown up runes, knowing that it would only slow them down at best because he was unfocused, unable to stop coughing. This time it wasn’t or two petals, but dozens of them, the pale pink now spotted with more and more crimson, and he’d fallen to his knees, unable to do anything but ride out the storm, as the ground in front of him was littered, with beautiful, bloodied petals._

_They had followed him as he’d feared they would, banging on the door and demanding to know if he was all right. Evergreen’s worry had been loud and shrill, and he’d felt terrible for worrying her like that. Laxus had come too, voice low and demanding and Freed had winced, and tried not to focus on the fact that he was doing the one thing they’d all told the Dragon-slayer he couldn’t do anymore – and shut them out. Then Bickslow was there, pounding on the door, no trace of a laugh in his voice as he’d demanded to know what was happening. With each word Bickslow said, the prickling intensified. Turning into a hacking cough and more petals, until Freed was light-headed and feeling as though he was about to pass out, and in sheer desperation, as a sinking, terrible realisation began to form he’d shouted at them to leave him alone. Whether it was his tone or the way his magic had flared in response, shoring up the weak defences, but the shouting had faded away, and with it, the fit had passed._

_He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there, chest heaving, and mouth filled with the taste of blood. Eventually, he’d stirred himself, fingers clenching into fists amid the bloody flowers, before slowly staggering to his feet. Breathless, aching yet strangely numb, he’d gone in search of a story half-remembered from his childhood._

_Hanahaki._

_He’d found it in a book of old tales and myths, eyes strangely dry as there in black and white, he’d seen every step of what he’d been going through. Some myth, he’d thought, forcing himself to read on, sinking into a chair as the true import of what he was reading began to sink in._

_Unrequited love…_

_… one-sided love that literally consumed the individual..._

_Flowers that would continue to bloom unless checked, until there was no room left…_

_…Death…_

_Disbelief had been the first emotion. Then denial, but that was short-lived because all he had to do was look at the floor, and he could see the truth of what was happening, even if he hadn’t been able to feel the pressure in his chest. Laughter of all things had followed, bitter and ever so slightly hysterical as he clutched the book that had given him the answers that he wished he’d never found. Laughter that had become sobs that had wracked his entire body, and he’d felt it then, the tightening around his heart and lungs, the rustling of petals and leaves, and the brush of sharp thorns, and with it, the sinking, terrible realisation had become a reality._

_Bickslow…_

*

Which had led him to this point nearly three weeks later, with time running away from him, like the sand in an hourglass. He’d sought out Porlyusica in the days following his discovery, and she’d confirmed what he’d already known. That the myth wasn’t a myth, and that he, Freed Justine was dying of Hanahaki, because of feelings that he hadn’t expected or asked for, and hadn’t even realised until it was much too late. It wasn’t fair. Porlyusica had been gentler with her than he could ever remember her being with anyone. Which had made the situation both more surreal and more terrifying, as she’d slowly, patiently talked him through his options, her crimson eyes darkened with worry and something a little too close to pity for his liking.

Tell him…

 _As though it is that simple,_ Freed thought, fighting the urge to look back across at the table. He was barely holding the petals at bay as it was, and he knew that if he set eyes on Bickslow right then, he would lose the battle. The flowers blossoming in his chest were answer enough. And even if they weren’t, they had all agreed a long time ago, back when they’d mistaken his devotion to Laxus as something more than it was, that they wouldn’t risk their team by dating one another even casually. He couldn’t and wouldn’t be the one to break that rule, especially when he already had his answer.

Cut it all away…

Porlyusica had been perfectly blunt about how unpleasant that process would be, and what it would cost him. It might save his life, but it would destroy him in a different way. The feelings that had caused this would be gone, never to return even if he later changed his mind, and she’d warned him that there was a risk that the emptiness that would remain could affect other relationships and feelings as well. After all, the heart and emotions were complicated, and what she would be doing would be bordering on experimental as recorded cases were few and far between, and what she’d found suggested that each case differed wildly. But it would save his life.

Let the flowers bloom…

There had been moments when the pain had overwhelmed him, and the darkness had crept across his vision as he struggled to breathe and ride out the coughing fit, that he had almost thought it would be worth letting that happen. That feeling rarely lingered. He didn’t want to die, not from this, not now. He had a life to live, but…

_I don’t know what to do…_

Movement beside him, followed by fingers brushing his arm made him jump, and he let his hand fall as he turned, terrified that it was going to be Bickslow. It was almost a relief to see Evergreen instead, at least until he took in the way that she was watching him, taken aback by his reaction, and he forced a smile. “You startled me; I was just caught up in my thoughts.” It sounded like a lie even in his own ears. _How much had she seen?_

“You’ve been distracted a lot recently,” Evergreen murmured, frowning at him, and his fingers twitched. His chest was burning again, throat catching on the petals that he knew wanted to rise with each beat of his heart, and he itched to reach up and press against his chest, anything to hold them back a little longer. But he could feel her watching him, the weight of her gaze making him swallow nervously, as though she would be able to see the truth if she stared long enough. “Is everything okay? Is it…?” His head shot up at that, eyes wide as he glanced towards their booth where Bickslow and Laxus were still discussing something intently, and he shook his head. He wasn’t sure if she had guessed correctly, and he didn’t want to know.

“I’m fine,” he said, knowing even as he spoke that the words had come out to rushed and urgent, even before her eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to protest. “Truly.” He met her gaze squarely, praying that she would let it go at that, hoping that the lie was written across his face. _Please._ He wasn’t even sure what he was pleading for at this point. For the flowers to stop? For the feelings to go away unaided. Or, for Evergreen to force the words out of him? Or to be left alone? He was no closer to an answer when Evergreen sighed and shook her head.

“I’m here when you want to talk.”

“Weren’t you the one that said that we shouldn’t have secrets?” Freed wasn’t sure what had possessed him to remind her of that, perhaps it was because she had looked almost hurt when she’d spoken. The distance he’d been putting between them, now making its presence known.

“If it was something that was going to tear apart our team then yes,” Evergreen said, before flashing him a small smile. “But I know you wouldn’t let that happen, and sometimes we’re not the easiest people to talk to.” The certainty in her words hurt, but at the same time, something in his chest unwound.

_I know you wouldn’t let that happen._

“Thank you, Ever…” He whispered, and surprising her he leant in and pressed a kiss to her cheek before stepping back, and she blinked at him, rubbing at her cheek in bemusement and concern.

“Freed?”

“You gave me the answer I needed,” he told her, and this time the smile he offered her was a little warmer, even as he felt as though he was breaking inside. _I can’t break our team apart._ He was their captain, now was the time to act like it, and he straightened. “I’ve got something to take care of, so I might be gone for a few days,” he told her, wishing that he had asked Porlyusica for more details, but at the time he had been too overwhelmed. He was still too overwhelmed, but he couldn’t hesitate now, not when he’d finally made his mind up. Evergreen scowled, her smile disappearing, and he could see her readying to ask more questions, but she either glimpsed something in his expression or chose to take pity on him, because she subsided, although there was steel in her voice as she told him softly.

“Just make sure you come back to us.”

“I will.”

_I will, I just don’t know how different I will be…_

****

Freed had been relieved when he’d arrived home to find the house was empty, unsure of whether the rest of the Raijinshuu was at the guild or if they had taken a job in his absence. Either way, he was relieved not to have to face them, to face Bickslow, just yet, still not sure what he was going to tell them about where he had been for the past couple of weeks, knowing that Porlyusica had sent a message to the guild to stop them coming hunting for him, but not sure what she had told them. His estimate of a few days having fallen far short, as it had taken days for Porlyusica to first curb the growth of the flowers with a range of potions and herbs, each tasting fouler than the last, and then to remove the wilting flowers and thorns from his chest. The entire process had been painful, and devastating, leaving him feeling as though she was killing off a part of his heart and soul, and in a way, he knew that she had been.

In the first days of his recovery, it had been easier to focus on the physical pain. His chest had ached and throbbed, the fresh wound raw and painful, each breath now free of petals had still sent pain lancing through him. However, Porlyusica had refused to let him use the pain to hide from everything else, and as she’d slowly brought it under control, he’d been unable to ignore the gnawing emptiness that lay beneath. He’d felt hollowed out and lost, and everything, every emotion, even those completely unrelated to Bickslow had felt off. Faded. Distant. He should have been grieving for what had been lost, but instead, he was listless and uncaring. The fear was muted, and while he told himself he cared about what this might mean for him, it was a lie told to comfort himself and the worried healer. He hadn’t even been able to worry about his teammates and what they must think of his longer than planned disappearance, and every time he’d asked if there had been any messages it had felt like he was a puppet on a string, just going through the motions.

Even the relief at not having to face them as he stepped into the house was muted. He knew that he was relieved, that he wasn’t ready to face them yet, but he didn’t really feel it, just the pang of where it should have been.

He wondered if he looked as ghost-like as he felt as he made his way up to his room, feeling as though he was moving through someone else’s life. There was no sense of homecoming when he stepped through the door and glanced around at the familiar room, the books lining the walls, the bed piled high with pillows and blankets; instead, he felt out of place in what had once been his sanctuary. _I’ve lost it all,_ he thought, swallowing as he looked around. He wanted to weep, but his eyes were dry. Another thing that had been lost. Cut from him with the flowers that he was starting to wish that he had let take him, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

_What have I done?_

He remained like that for a few minutes, as though hoping that something would shift. That some emotion, no matter how raw and painful would bubble up, but there was nothing. Eventually, he opened his eyes and looked around, gaze falling on the book lying on the bedside table. _I’m not ready,_ he thought, and yet he was already moving towards it. Settling on the edge of the bed that no longer felt like it belonged to him, he reached for the book, laying it in his lap and staring at it for a long moment, before slowly opening it.

There amongst the pages were some of the petals that he had coughed up over the months. Lovingly preserved between the pages once he’d realised what was happening, and why, each one a memento to the love he’d felt for Bickslow. The love that had been killing him. The love that had been torn from him, along with far too much, at his own request. His throat closed up as he reached out with trembling fingers to touch one of the petals, but the tears still wouldn’t come. Instead, all he had was the strange emptiness that had gripped him from the moment he’d woken in Porlyusica’s house, a calm that felt out of place… no, that was out of place, when he knew that he should have been caught up in the middle of an emotional storm right there and then. Left with nothing but a dull ache that matched the scar across his chest.

“It was the only way,” he whispered to the room, to the emotions that weren’t quite reaching him, not sure who he was trying to convince.

The words.

The lie, tasting like ash.

_What have I done?_


End file.
